


Take What You Can

by Tibby



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Background Mr. Pickles, Black Jewish boyfriend who works in a military abortion clinic, Gen, Mostly Gen, Navel-Gazing, Pre-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 19:11:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3392975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tibby/pseuds/Tibby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Pickles' death prompts Harry to reflect on why he joined the service.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take What You Can

It was a good year, the year Harry Hart’s dog died. That was the year he’d helped foil the intended Paris bombings by the nameless anarchist cult. They had been troublesome, the Nameless Anarchist Cult, not least because they thought labels were tools of oppression. The protocol had been to refer to them as N.A.C, which they never acknowledged. Fortunately, their aversion to names had been easy to take advantage of because it made organising themselves very difficult. Harry had not been able to save Princess Diana, it was true, but aside from that shameful blot on the record he considered it one of his best operations.

It was also the year he’d bought his first Mac computer, discovered he didn’t dislike seafood as much as he’d previously believed, and entered into his first long-term relationship since 1989.

The death itself had not been pleasant, of course, but there was some form of relief in it. Mr. Pickles had seemed to sleep peacefully after all those months growing wearier and wearier. In Harry’s mind, too, there was some sensation of release. After all, for as long as the two of them had shared their lives, Mr. Pickles had been a constant reminder that whatever love Harry Hart held, if it was asked of him, he would kill it dead.

It didn’t occur to Harry to resent this state of affairs overly much. He understood sacrifice, he had known what was required of him when he signed up for his unusual work, and he acknowledged that he was just the type of person to make such an isolated life for himself. But there was also something contrary in him that had made him commit to Kingsman in the first place. It hadn’t been his godfather’s referral of him as a candidate, or the influence of his stoic father who embodied duty (and humourlessness) better than anyone he had ever met. It had been his mother, probably. His mother who would break an engagement at the drop of a hat just to take her children out for fish and chips. His mother who used manners as kindnesses, not weapons of snobbery or humiliation.

Harry did not go directly home after leaving the vet’s. He did not go to one of his clubs either. He went to a coffee shop, where he ordered a latte and sat a table away from a nice young man who worked at an abortion clinic and, a couple of hours later, asked him out on a date.

This had been the start of a long and loving relationship, although not one destined to last forever. Harry had not expected that. It lasted as long as it needed to, long enough to convince Harry that it was worthwhile to not give up.

Yes, it was a good year, the year Mr. Pickles died. As good as can ever be expected.


End file.
